


Enough

by Peeko



Series: Forget About the Math for a Second [2]
Category: Numb3rs (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, rated mature for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 05:56:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17299046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peeko/pseuds/Peeko
Summary: Charlie misses Ian, Don makes everything worse, and Ian tells bad maths jokes.





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> So this was meant to be a multi-chapter fic and then I was writing what was meant to be the first half of the first chapter and it somehow turned into this. Which I think is a lesson not to start writing at 1AM because that never ends well and mostly just results in me word vomiting angst all over the page. If there are a lot of spelling and grammar errors I am sorry- it is way too early/late for me to catch them all and I will go back and edit them later.
> 
> Also, saliannas - you asked for angst so I give you angst! 
> 
> Enjoy

“So, you and Edgerton, huh?”

Looking up from his phone screen, Charlie barely manages to keep from groaning out loud when he is greeted with his brother’s patented ‘I really don’t want to but I think I may actually have to talk about how I am feeling and I am not happy about it’ look. You would think that after more than thirty years, Don might have learned that a person did have to emote every so often, but evidently that life lesson has still failed to be taken onboard. 

Four and a half weeks. It has been four and a half weeks since Ian walked into Charlie’s backyard, revealed that he was in fact Charlie’s soulmate, and kissed him. Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say since Charlie launched himself at Ian and practically mauled the poor man in front of his brother and father. Regardless, it had been four and a half weeks and this was the first time that Don has tried to talk to Charlie about it. Apparently, Don had found the image of his brother making out with a fellow FBI agent who he had known for years so traumatic that he decided to test the hypothesis that if he never talked about it or acknowledge Ian Edgerton’s existence in any way, perhaps he could somehow alter reality through sheer force of will. Maybe their Dad had finally made good on his threats to slap some sense into Don?

Looking back down at his phone, Charlie can’t help but laugh softy at Ian’s ongoing description of an accident-prone agent he is currently working with. Charlie had to admit that one thing he had definitely not expected about Ian was the man’s fondness for texting. For some reason, Charlie’s image of Ian as the lone sniper had included an aversion to all communication, written or otherwise, and most especially something as time consuming as texting. To his surprise and delight though, ever since Ian left Los Angeles, Charlie’s phone has been almost constantly beeping with some message or another from Ian, ranging from expletive ridden polemics to simple messages about a new math joke he heard, or a dog he passed by. And if each text message left Charlie with a dopey look on his face and a warm feeling in his chest, he decided that the incessant teasing from Larry and his Dad was worth it.

**C: Don has apparently decided to acknowledge your existence. Okay if I call you after? xx**

**I: Of course. Let me know if the cat is alive or dead.**

Fuck, Charlie loves that man. Which he knows is ridiculous considering the fact that he met him barely two months ago. Even with the whole soulmate thing that was still fast. Hollywood liked to pretend that being soulmates meant an instant, life altering connection, but Charlie knew better. He used to think when he met his soulmate he wouldn’t be one of those melodramatic people who fell in love instantly. He would be reasonable. _Logical_. But here Charlie found himself, completely head over heels for this man he barely knew and evidently foolish enough to not be shit scared about that fact. Well, he is shit scared. But not enough to try to change anything about it. Instead, he is sitting here undoubtedly wearing that dopey grin Larry keeps drawing everyone at CalSci’s attention to, ignoring his brother in favour of imagining scenarios in which he can get Agent Ian Edgerton naked and near a horizontal surface as soon as possible. Quickly realising that that avenue of thought and its resulting physiological responses would likely make this conversation even more awkward, Charlie quickly turns his attention back to Don. 

“Yep. Me and Ian. He says hi, by the way.”

Probably a petty move, but Charlie is still a younger brother at heart and not yet at the age where it is no longer amusing to make his brother look like he just swallowed a live frog. 

“Right. So you guys are talking?”

“Technically, we are texting at the moment. But yes, we usually call each other once a day. He’s in Austin at the moment for a case.”

And hadn’t that sucked? After kissing each other silly, Ian had taken Charlie out to dinner to get away from Don’s horrified glares and his Dad’s bemusement. Considering he had almost been killed a few hours earlier, Ian said that the last thing Charlie needed was a crowded restaurant, so he took Charlie to a small hole in the wall Chinese place he had eaten at the last time he was in Los Angeles. They had just been swapping vastly different stories of their college experiences when Ian’s mobile had rung, and he was told that he would need to catch a flight out to Texas the day after tomorrow. In all the excitement, Charlie had somehow managed to forget that Ian’s presence in Los Angeles was temporary, the call bringing him back to reality with painful force. 

Ian, however, seemed to take news of their impending separation as a personal challenge, spending almost every moment of his time left in Los Angeles with Charlie (outside of a meeting or two he needed to attend to wrap up his involvement in the copycat sniper case). Of course, Charlie’s enjoyment of their time together was somewhat diminished by the raging case of blue balls Ian seemed determined to give him. Evidently, Ian wanted to “do things the right way”, which in this particular instance meant not “rushing” into the fun bits, namely where Charlie got to rip off Ian’s stupidly flattering jeans and see just how he measured up to his fantasies. When Charlie had said almost exactly that in response to Ian’s chivalrous proclamation, the heat in the sniper’s eyes was enough to allay the small voice in the back of his head that was saying that his soulmate’s hesitance had more to do with Charlie himself than a desire to be a gentleman. The way that Ian had subsequently picked Charlie up, slammed him against a nearby wall, and proceeded to give him the most intense sexual experience of his life _without them actually having sex_ , also went a long way to temporarily silencing his insecurities. 

“Yeah, I heard. Fugitive Recovery, right?”

“Yep.”

“So. How is that going to work? Long term, I mean. ‘Cause Ian is based in Quantico, and if he’s not there, he is off racing all around the country. Doesn’t really leave a lot of room for…”

In lieu of finishing his sentence, Don gestures his hand wildly in Charlie’s direction, Charlie’s stomach sinking as he considers his brother’s question and what it implies.

“Me, you mean?”

Don does not seem to notice the tightness creeping into his voice, which Charlie supposes says something about how uncomfortable this whole conversation is making the seasoned investigator. 

“Yeah. I mean, Edgerton has never really been one to be tied down, you know? I remember even when I worked with him in Quantico the guy’s life seemed kind of transient. Like he was ready to pick up and go at any moment. I mean, I never even heard about him dating someone for longer than a few months, let alone the kind of commitment that you would want. So how’s it going to work?

“What do you mean, ‘that I would want’?”

Charlie hates the look that Don gives him in response to his question. Like he is something pathetic, something to be pitied. It’s the same look that people used to give him when he was younger and the numbers got to be too much, when he could no longer see past them. It’s the look his father gave him when his mother was dying and Charlie was so deep in P vs. NP that he could no longer perceive a world outside of it. And the fact that Don is giving him that look while talking about Ian is scaring Charlie, because the idea of doing this wrong, of somehow messing things up with Ian, is petrifying. 

“It’s just, you guys are really different people, Chuck. I mean, I get the whole soulmate thing, but that doesn’t mean that everything will just work out. I can’t really see Ian settling down, you know? And I don’t want you to get hurt waiting for something that will never happen. I just don’t think it would ever be enough for Edgerton, he would miss the chase too much.”

“You mean, you don’t think _I_ would be enough.”

Again, Don doesn’t answer verbally, instead shrugging and looking down to pick at the label of the beer bottle in his hands. Realising that he is about to start hyperventilating, Charlie takes a few deep breaths, reminding himself that Don probably is not deliberately trying to be the world’s biggest dickhead and that telling him to go fuck himself would likely just make things between them more strained. Don seems to finally find the silence too unbearable because he clears his throat before speaking again.

“Look, all I’m saying is just be careful, okay? I know you are really excited about finding your soulmate but you don’t know Edgerton very well. I don’t want you getting hurt. When I was at Quantico with him I-”

Whatever else Don was about to say, however, is quickly cut off when Charlie’s phone starts ringing. Looking down, Charlie feels a strange jerking sensation in his chest, his heart caught between elation and despair as the caller ID lights up with IAN. Deciding that whatever bullshit Don was going to say was unlikely to be any different from what had proceeded it, Charlie quickly shoots an insincere apologetic look at his brother and answers the phone as he stands up from the kitchen table, walking out the back door towards his home office.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Professor. I hope I’m not interrupting your talk with Don. I just got a call from Yamada that we have a lead, so I wanted to call you before I went out again.”

“Nah, we had just finished talking.”

“Did it all go okay?”

Opening the door to his office, Charlie walks in and collapses onto the nearby couch, staring at the equations that cover his blackboards, trying desperately to forget his conversation with Don and focus on Ian.

“Mmmm…”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Is there an option that is worse than bad?”

At his answer, Charlie can hear Ian’s heavy sigh and all movement on the other end of the phone stop. He imagines that Ian is doing that thing where he goes preternaturally still, transforming himself instantly into a living statue.

“What happened, little one?”

At the use of the pet name, Charlie feels his breath catch in his throat, suddenly realising that he is mortifyingly on the verge of tears. Ian must hear the hitch, because his tone shifts immediately from sympathy to concern. Said concern seems to rapidly escalate to outright panic as Charlie begins to lose the battle against his tears, sobs beginning to breakthrough his chest.

“Charlie, sweetheart, please tell me what happened. Jesus Christ, I will fucking shoot Don when I next see him. Please don’t cry, little one. Otherwise I will have to kill him, and I don’t think you will like me very much if I do that. And it will definitely not help endear me to Alan. Deep breaths, Charlie. There you go. Just breathe”

Following Ian’s gentle orders, Charlie feels himself starting to calm down. By the time his breathing is almost even again, he is calm enough to feel a creeping flush of embarrassment work its way up his neck and across his face. He can just imagine Ian sitting there, internally panicking as he realises what an emotionally unstable wreck fate has saddled him with. Charlie almost groans when he realises he is basically just proving Don’s point for him. Why the hell would Ian want to stick around for this? From what Don said, the man is not exactly hard up for partners. Why get entangled with a neurotic, overemotional mathematician when he can be off doing whatever and whomever it is he has been perfectly happy doing before he met Charlie.

“Sorry, Ian. You probably need to get to going. I’ll let you g-”

“Yeah, try again, Professor. If you think I am letting you hang up without working this out, you are obviously not as smart as everyone says you are.”

“Seriously, Ian, I’m fine. It’s just brother stuff.”

“Uh-huh. So if I called him right now and asked him about what happened, he would say ‘brother stuff’ too?”

Considering Don’s inability to communicate effectively beyond the confines of his job combined with his general edginess around Ian, Charlie is actually pretty sure that’s almost exactly the answer Ian would receive. 

“Talk to me Charlie. Please.”

And, of course, it’s the please that does it. Not because Ian never says please, but because the way he says it makes it sound like Charlie keeping this to himself hurts Ian in the same way that Ian knows Don has hurt Charlie. And Charlie, of course, can’t let that happen, because apparently that’s what happens when you fall in love with your soulmate. Or at least, that is what has happened to Charlie. Which fucking sucks, because right about now Charlie doesn’t exactly feel up to getting his heart ripped out when Ian confirms Don’s warnings. 

“He basically said I was an idiot for thinking that you would want me. That no matter how much I want you, no matter how much I want a life with you, you’ll never be mine. Because it’s not enough. _I’m_ not enough. You’ll never stay because, because- well, why would you?!”

Hearing his own words echo in the suddenly silent phone connection, a whole knew avenue of thought opens up, leaving Charlie even more distressed. His distress further increases when he realises that the fucking tears are making a reappearance.

“I mean, what the hell is wrong with me?! We’ve known each other for barely two months and I’m already thinking about stuff like that! I sound like a crazy person. A crazy, possessive weirdo. Who thinks like that after only _two months_? Why would you want anything to do with me now, let alone at some indeterminate time in the future? 

“Don’s right! Soulmate or not, we are too different. You won’t want the same things I do, you won’t want me the way I want you. Which basically means that I am fucked because I am in love with you and it doesn’t even fucking _matter_!”

Gulping down deep breaths, Charlie can only stare straight ahead at the numbers on his boards, wondering how the hell he managed to turn everything to shit in such a short period of time. As the silence between the two of them stretches, he feels the insane urge to laugh hysterically. Two months. He has managed to find and scare off his soulmate in two months. Surely that has to be a record. He can’t help wondering how deep he will have go into the numbers to numb this, to get to a point where he can, if not forget, then at least not feel whatever this ripping sensation is emanating from his heart. 

“You done, Professor?”

Something about that question loosens Charlie’s tight control over the hysterical laughter, allowing a short cackle to burst out of his lips.

“Yeah, Ian. I’m done.”

Charlie knows he should hang up. He knows that this is his cue to be a grown ass fucking adult and hang up and leave the conversation with even a modicum of dignity intact. He knows, though, that he won’t. He will wait until Ian disconnects the call, because he knows that this is probably the last time he will talk to Ian Edgerton and he cannot bear losing even a second of it. So he waits. He waits for Ian to end this, end them, hoping that he can draw this out for even a few moments longer.

“Okay, good, because I need you to listen to me very closely, Charles Edward Eppes. Your brother is a fucking moron who has no fucking clue what he is talking about, and you are an even bigger fucking moron for believing any of the shit that he says. Not _enough_? Jesus fucking Christ, Charlie, you’re _everything_.”

“Wha-”

“No, Professor. It’s my turn now, so just sit there and actually listen to what I am saying, okay? I don’t care that it’s only been two months. I didn’t care when it had only been two _days_. I want that. I want that life that you want. 

“I want to go to sleep every night wrapped around you and wake up the same way. I want to drive you to work in the morning because I feel like spending a few extra minutes with you. I want to know what it's like to watch you grow old second by second, not months at a time in between assignments. Jesus, the only reason why I didn’t put in the paperwork for a transfer to Los Angeles immediately was because I wanted to give you time to get used to this. I wanted to do this, _us_ right, and that meant not rushing into things that could overwhelm either of us. Because what we are, what we will be, is enough for me, Charlie. Just like I hope it will be enough for you.”

Charlie is pretty sure he is not breathing, which probably should matter to him more that it currently does. But at this point he is pretty convinced that Albert Einstein could rise of the grave in front of him and he would hardly notice, and care even less. His heart is beating far too quickly, there is a ringing sound in his ears, and Ian fucking Edgerton said that he was everything. He is also apparently insane because how could he not be enough for Charlie?

“What are you talking about?”

A dark chuckle greets Charlie’s question, and it makes his chest hurt in ways that are distinct from the burning in his lungs due to oxygen deprivation.

“Ian, what are you talking about?”

“I’m not exactly a genius, Professor. Don’t get me wrong- I’m intelligent enough. But I’m not a genius. I’ve seen you when you are in it. That day that Cane almost shot you, when you were wandering around with your clipboard? I could see it. You were in a different world. And I can’t follow you there, little one. Can you live without that?”

It was a ridiculous concern, really. Charlie didn’t even have to think about his answer. 

“I don’t need someone to follow me there, Ian. I need someone to keep me here. The numbers are always there. I can always feel them trying to pull me under and sometimes, most of the time, I love when they do. But I need to be more than just the numbers. I need to be someone outside of the mathematician and that’s what you give me. So yeah, you are definitely enough.”

“I love you, Charlie.”

With Ian’s answer, Charlie can feel the same dopey grin from earlier in the evening make a comeback, except this time, it is so wide his cheeks hurt. He can’t help but laugh again, this time though from pure joy rather than anguished hysteria. 

“I love you too, Ian.”

“I have to go. Yamada has texted me about five hundred times. But I am calling you tomorrow morning, okay? We still have some stuff to talk though.”

“Good stuff though, right?”

“Yeah, Professor. Good stuff.”

Charlie really needs to stop smiling like this or he is going to do permanent damage to his facial muscles. 

“Night, Ian. Please be safe.”

“For you? Always. Get some sleep, okay?”

“I will. Hope you catch your fugitive.”

“Mmmm. Night, Professor.” 

When Charlie hears Ian hang up, he lowers himself so he is lying down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling above him. Following long ago mapped out patterns in the cracks, he is startled somewhat when his phone rings suddenly. Pulling it closer to his face, he is confused to see that Ian has texted him. Opening up the message, he can’t help but laugh, completely enamoured with the man he is lucky enough to have as his soulmate.

**I: Three statisticians go out hunting together. After a while they spot a solitary rabbit. The first statistician takes aim and overshoots. The second aims and undershoots. The third shouts out “We got him!” Moral of the story: leave the hunting to the snipers. Love you, Professor.**

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to leave Kudos and comments, especially if you have anything in particular you want me to write!
> 
> Next instalment will either be from Ian's POV or a mix of him and Charlie. I think...
> 
> Also, 100 kudos on the first part?! Thanks so much everyone!!


End file.
